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0645 The Dance (Part-1)
🕑 Added 2025-03-06 11:00:53 +0000 UTCAs Professor Watson announced the start of the Yule Ball with a dramatic flourish of his wand, the piano he conjured on the stage began playing a soothing, melancholy tune that echoed through the hall. The extravagantly huge chandelier suspended above the palace suddenly casted a beam of pale golden light downwards, enveloping the vast stage.
Cedric and Cho exchanged a tender, knowing glance as their eyes sparkled with anticipation and affection. Matching smiles spread across their faces as they instinctively clasped each other's hands. Rising gracefully from their seats at the head table, the couple walked towards the stage. They were the first to take the floor, setting the tone for the magical evening.
Close behind them came the pair of Viktor Krum and Daphne Greengrass. Krum looked even more striking than usual in his sleek scarlet robes trimmed with fur, while Daphne was dressed in a gown of emerald green silk. They strode onto the stage with their heads held high, seemingly oblivious to the envious and admiring stares being cast their way by the other students.
It was at this moment that Harry felt the first fluttering's of nervousness. The sudden realization crashed over him like a bucket of ice water - in all the time since he had agreed to attend the ball with Fleur Delacour as his date, not once had he made any effort to practice his already questionable dancing skills in private. His initial excitement for the ball had long since faded, but that didn't mean he was at all prepared to make a complete fool of himself in front of the entire school.
"Don't be nervous, 'Arry..." Fleur's melodic voice suddenly reached his ears, stopping his building panic.
Perhaps out of habit, Harry's head had already instinctively turned towards Hermione, seeking her usual guidance and support. But then he processed Fleur's words and quickly turned back to face her. He hoped his brief lapse wasn't overly obvious as he met her gaze, finding not her typical aloof expression, but one of gentle understanding and encouragement, her eyes were now soft.
"I will guide you, yes? Just follow my lead," She assured him with a dazzling smile.
"Oh - er, thanks," Harry managed, expelling his held breath in a rush of relief. Under Fleur's guidance, perhaps this whole trial wouldn't turn out to be the complete disaster he had been imagining. He gave her a grateful nod, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders.
By this time, Harry and Fleur had circled around the head table to approach the stage. Giggles and snickers erupted from the gathered students as they eagerly awaited the upcoming 'dance-demo' of champions, and stretched their necks to get a better look.
It took Harry a moment to realize the source of their amusement wasn't directed at him for once - instead, their gleeful gazes were fixed on his best friends. Alarmed, he glanced back over his shoulder to check on Ron, who he knew handled this type of high-pressure social situation even more poorly than himself. But before he could do little more than turn his head, Fleur firmly grasped his elbow, and dragged him determinedly forward.
As the feast carried on, Ron grew increasingly dizzy, his stomach churned unpleasantly despite the lavish feast he had eaten. In his head, the anticipation for the opening dance fought with nearly overwhelming dread, his emotions were wavering wildly between the two.
While Hermione ate delicately beside him, Ron couldn't seem to stop himself from obsessively eyeing the outfits of the other champions, mentally cataloging each detail.
There was no denying that his ancient maroon velvet dress robes, moth-eaten and tattered at the hems, were the shabbiest and most pathetic of all the boys's dress. Shame roiled in his gut, even as he tried unsuccessfully to compress down the disapproving thoughts. But he couldn't stop his mind from running wild with embarrassing visions of everyone pointing and laughing loudly at him the moment he set foot on that stage...
When Professor Watson gave the signal for the champions to make their way to the dance floor, Ron immediately broke out into a cold sweat, his mind was going utterly blank with terror.
It was only Hermione's whispered persuading that prompted him into automatically scrambling to his feet - but his trembling legs seemed to lose all sensation and strength. They turned to jelly, dropping him right back down onto the bench with a clumsy thud.
Hermione keenly sensed Ron's problem. She pushed back the bench and nimbly supported Ron's arm, but Ron's thrashing hands nearly tore off her shoulder strap as if he was drowning.
"For Merlin's sake, Ron!"
It would be a blatant lie to claim that she wasn't experiencing her own clattering nerves at the prospect of what lay ahead. But taking one look at Ron's ashen face, slick with sweat, any thought of her own anxiety flew straight out of her head. She had to be the strong one at this moment, for both their sakes.
As she carefully detached her dress from Ron's knuckled grip and straightened everything back into place, she turned to him impatiently and said quickly in a suppressed voice,
"There's nothing to be afraid of, Ron, it's only two minutes!"
"Right. Yeah. 'Course,"
Perhaps it was the concern contained in Hermione's clear brown eyes that helped Ron regain some courage. Ron gasped out weakly. He shook his head as if to clear it, trying to control his breathing.
"S'just...reckon my foot's gone completely dead..."
Hermione glanced over to see the other couples already in place on the stage. She and Ron were now conspicuously lagging behind. Hurriedly looping her arm through his to offer what little support she could, she set off to catch up.
How he made it up onto the platform and under the blinding golden spotlight without fainting dead away, Ron wasn't entirely sure.
The walk from the head table couldn't have been more than 40 or 50 feet at most, but each step felt like an entire mile as the eyes of what seemed like the entire wizarding world was pressed down upon him.
It was undoubtedly the longest, most arduous trek of his life thus far - facing Aragog and his children had been a stroll through a field of wildflowers by comparison.
He knew with absolute certainty that the only thing of real importance was to stay calm and not make a complete fool of himself in front of everyone. The idea of embarrassing himself was distressing enough, but the thought of making Hermione a laughingstock, who through some twist of fate had chosen him, of all people, as her date - was more than Ron's heart could bear. He'd rather battle another mountain troll or face expulsion.
He tried his best not to look at the gazes of the people waiting for him to take the stage, but those mocking, scornful, indifferent, and puzzled looks flew into his eyes from all directions, obscuring his vision, threw his thoughts into disarray, tearing apart his psychological defenses, making him break out in a cold sweat.
As it turned out, appearing under the spotlight and becoming the focus of people's attention wasn't such a wonderful thing. The audience below the stage was much more at ease.
"Hey, Ron? put your arm around my waist," Hermione's gentle voice broke through the static buzzing in his ears. Her gentle tone was nearly drowned out by the slow, melodic music swelling through the hall.
The moment his trembling hand touched the girl's waist, the first thought that leapt into Ron's mind was: Hermione's waist is so soft.
The softness in his palms made Ron feel faint. He seemed to be able to feel the blood rushing through his body, making him feel as if he was on fire.
He subconsciously looked towards Hermione. A blush had also crept over her cheeks. Her hair, which had become sleek, glowed under the spotlight. Her ribs, the lavender gauzy strapless top, and the alluring curves of her body were even more shocking than the dragon that appeared at the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!
Ron had never realized Hermione was so beautiful!
Beautiful enough to take his breath away, beautiful enough that he didn't dare look any further!
The chaotic thoughts made Ron stumble in his already clumsy dance steps. He staggered slightly, but fortunately Hermione's arms provided him some support, so he didn't make an even bigger fool of himself.
Pffft—
From the edge of the stage came a soft snort of barely suppressed laughter that nonetheless cut straight through the music to Ron's ears. He knew he shouldn't look, but his gaze was drawn to the source as if by magnetic force.
There stood Malfoy's two sidekicks, Crabbe and Goyle with their shoulders shaking as they hid their smirking mouths behind their hands.
'What's so bloody funny?' Ron fumed silently, his face flushing crimson with mixed anger and embarrassment. Those two fools couldn't even find dates to the ball!
Ron tried to throw Crabbe and Goyle out of his mind, but that split-second glance was all it took. Suddenly, the sarcastic sneers twisting the corners of certain Slytherins' mouths seemed to grow and multiply, until they dominated Ron's field of vision, even squeezing Hermione's image out of his mind.
'Don't get distracted, Ron, ignore these people, they're just jealous of you!'
Ron shouted at himself in his heart, wanting to focus on Hermione and the dance moves, but his eyes grew more and more unfocused, noticing these classmates below the stage, the other three pairs of champions and partners on the stage, the professors at the head table.
'Were they looking at me? Would they think me and my dress robes were a joke? Would they think it was a complete mistake for Hermione, as one of the Triwizard champions, to choose me?'
From the unfocused glaze slowly obscuring Ron's blue eyes, the deepening furrow between his brows, the sweat beginning to bead at his temples, and the increasing frequency with which he stepped on the hem of her gown, Hermione could easily guess what Ron was thinking about now.
But she didn't remind Ron to focus again.
Hermione gazed at the boy dancing with her, her eyes were gentle.
Ron was a bit clumsy, but also very clever. Ron was a little vain, but he was also very kind.
She had known this big boy in front of her for nearly four years. It was he who accidentally helped her walk out of the isolation she had shown due to fear after entering the wonderfully magical world as a Muggle girl.
He brought her a lot of joy and touched her heart deeply. In their second year, when Malfoy mocked her as a "Mudblood", she never forgot that Ron was the first one to rush out to teach Malfoy a lesson.
Of course, on many nights, he also made her so angry she couldn't sleep, with Scabbers' situation, and more recently, Ron's cold attitude after she became a champion.
She knew the boy in front of her secretly liked her. In the past, she had also fantasized about whether she might end up with Ron in the future. She felt it might not be a bad choice, but deep down, there had always been doubts.
Professor Watson's words gave Hermione the courage to face her reservations about Ron. That was actually a kind of unwillingness in her. She shouldn't just go with the flow and make concessions. She should just respect her true inner feelings more and listen to her heart!
The melancholy music finally reached its end. Ron heaved a huge sigh of relief. His attention finally returned to Hermione, but the moment his eyes met Hermione's gaze, he froze, and before he could say anything--
"Thank you, Ron--"
Hermione said with a smile, looking at the boy in front of her.
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